I gave bitty E an old Rosemary Clooney cd of mine. {We are big fans of feeding our children a regular diet of music that wasn’t written for children, but still has a certain je ne sais quoi for the under 10 crowd.}

{You haven’t lived until you’ve heard Bitty E sing “Livin’ on a Prayer.”}

Needless to say: George’s aunt is a hit. Maybe in 20 years I’ll be able to wake up in the middle of the night *without* the theme for The Rosemary Clooney Show ringing in my ears.

Until then my mantra will remain at least it’s not Barney.

Yesterday was bordering on gorgeous so we took Rosemary out and got a few yard projects done. The peas came down, and the broccoli {what little of it there was} and the lettuces came up. I cut everything into 6-ish inch pieces and then just turned it under a little bit into each of the beds.

There was definitely a good amount of “I’m not sure this is the right thing to do but I’m going to try it anyway.” {I’m not putting anything in the composter until it warms up. The temperatures around here won’t sustain any above-ground decomposition according to the handy manual.}

I realized I definitely need to invest in a small yard knife. That stuff would have been WAY easier to cut down to size with the right tool.

I also realized I need to figure out how to keep everyone out of the raised beds.

Like she owns the place.

Please, make yourself at home.

What is this, the Columbia Inn in Pine Tree Vermont?

*sigh.*

If only.

So, follow me, if you will.

A fruit of the spirit is self-control, but fruit grows from seeds, and you have to acquire seeds in some form or fashion in order to be able to grow them, so the more seeds you acquire, the more fruits of the spirit you will grow, such as self-control. Therefore, self-control cannot grow without copious amounts of seeds, negating the need for self-control when purchasing seeds.

{Is it working? Because this is my only plan of approach for running my seed company orders by David before I press “purchase.”}

Oh, I have been all up in the catalogs, online and in the flesh. I’m going with several of the staples from last year, but I want to try some new finds as well.

David requested that we add edamame to the raised beds this year. AND A HEARTY YES TO YOU, SIR.

I also want to try this funness called naranjilla. As well as tomatillos and some cowpeas called pinkeye purple hull. Jarrahdale blue pumpkins are a must.

In the flower department, we are going to branch out and grow something other than pink. If you see the bitties out in public, please don’t tell them. I need to warm them up to the idea slowly, much like I need to be warmed up to the idea that there is limited space in my raised beds.

I have this platter that is one of my absolute favorite things ever. It was a wedding present from a friend of my in laws—a generous and kind spirit who I don’t know very well but admire from afar. The kind of woman you want to be like when you grow up. The platter looks like a piece of lace in the best-ever grandma chic kind of way. I was hope-hope-hoping to get it off my registry. It lends class to anything that is blessed to grace its top. I love to put something banal on it—like a lil’ smokie. {Though it also looks good with thick slices of Ina’s beef tenderloin but who wants to tie one of those up again…I may be a baker but I am neither butcher nor candlestick maker…}

One day this platter will break and I will cry. Probably the ugly kind. {We’re approaching 10 years of marriage…that platter has held a lot of lil’ smokies.} I will cry because I love it and it’s perfect for all occasion of parties and also because it will probably have half a batch of lil’ smokies on it when it comes crashing down…but I will really cry for another reason. I will cry because it will remind me that stuff breaks, life is short, and short lifes break.

We try to talk about heaven around here, but I’ve documented that my efforts haven’t been exactly…err…successful. Bitty E still tells me that she doesn’t believe it exists. {In case you’re wondering, that one is passive and laid-back, un-opinionated, and accepting of what we tell her, except none of those things at all.}

I wonder at how I can keep her from scraped knees.

I wonder at how I can keep her from heartbreak until she’s at least 30.

I wonder at my folly that I want her to know the Man of Sorrows all the while praying that she won’t have to feel loss or hurt or pain.

I want her to know the promises for the day when she really needs them: the day when she has to say goodbye to someone she loves deep.

{Whoa, it just got way serious up in here.}

Please don’t get the idea that I do this with any level of grace. I stammer and stumble and second guess my way across any conversation with her that involves any shadow of death…which is why I’m so glad Anne Riley and Amy Grimes wrote this book, Voyage to the Star Kingdom.

These are some words.

When our copy arrived in the mail on Friday bitty E immediately asked me to read it to her, and then when I finished she asked me to read it all over again. Oh how I hope we won’t, but if we need these words while they’re still bitty, this is the vocabulary of death I want us to have. This is the imagery of heaven I want them to connect with now.

So, if you have a bitty {or if you’re a bitty at heart, for that matter} and death has drawn near, can I recommend this? Because I do. Most heartily.

You can buy it here. All profits from the book’s sales will go to a trust fund that has been set up for the family who inspired the story.

Well done, Anne Riley. Well done, Amy Grimes. And prayers and love and heartache over the sweet family you wrote this for. One whisper, one hope: Jesus, the Star King.

“He was despised and rejected by men; a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief; and as one from whom men hide their faces he was despised, and we esteemed him not.

Surely he has borne our griefs and carried our sorrows; yet we esteemed him stricken, smitten by God, and afflicted. But he was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed.” Isaiah 53:3-5

And if you’d like to see more from these talented ladies, Anne blogs about writing here, and you can see more of Amy’s art here.

I had *so much fun* reading the comments to the Baker Creek Seed giveaway. I kept wanting to reply to the comments “OH ME TOO!” or “What a great idea—I’m swiping that one right out from under you!” But alas, I knew it would mess with the counting for the winner…and me and math have a long and troublesome history.

So let’s get on with it.

{Right after this little warning to the winner.}

I’ve heard that when people win the Powerball, everyone they’ve ever known comes out of the woodwork asking for handouts/rent/scholarships/new shoes/grocery money or scholarships for new shoes.

It’s going to be the same for you, oh Baker Creek seed giveaway winner.

Now: I am to be trusted. I will *not* give away your email address to the other 53 people who entered this contest. But they will find you. They will use your first name and track you down. And it won’t be for rent money, new shoes, or a scholarship…it will be for seeds.

Stay strong. Be selfish. You have rightfully won.

You cheer loud and strong and ignore the pleas of mercy from the unlucky ones.

Ok, now I promise I’m really going to draw…I asked Siri for some help, and she was happy to oblige. {This is in direct opposition to her penchant for arguing with me about the best way out of my neighborhood.}

So: congratulations to Eric Klekamp!

And also: oh no, Eric Klekamp! You wrote your last name in the field! Why not just Eric! Why not Eric K! You won’t be able to rest because now you will be so. much. easier. for the ravenous seed hoard to track down. Stay strong, Eric Klekamp. Surely they won’t hurt you too badly; they’re probably very nice. They probably recycle.

{And hey, uh, Eric–have I mentioned I’ve been dying to try growing some Belgian endive??}

Juuust kidding.  Sort of.

Thanks to Baker Creek Seed Company for this fun giveaway, and if you haven’t signed up for their free catalog yet you can do so here.

Also, if you found me through this giveaway, I’d love for you to stick around Digging Suburbia–should get wild and crazy as spring approaches. You can sign up for the once per month email digest under the right-hand column of any page where it says “Dig In!”

Congrats, Eric! And I’m off to email you…